


Certain Dark Things

by indiefic



Category: Agent Carter (TV), Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe, Bloodplay, F/M, Vampires
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-26
Updated: 2016-10-26
Packaged: 2018-08-27 04:01:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,755
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8386411
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/indiefic/pseuds/indiefic
Summary: ALTERNATE UNIVERSE.  Peggy Carter grew up in England, always understanding that she was different.  It wasn’t until after the war, during which Dr. Erskine encouraged her to use her unusual skillset to minimize casualties, that she truly learned the depth of what she was, and how much power she could wield.
TL;DR: Peggy’s a vampire queen without followers; Steve’s a vampire footsoldier without a master.





	

**Author's Note:**

> It’s a snippet of a much larger work that will probably never see the light of day (pun intended). So here’s a little Halloweenish fic to pass the time
> 
>  
> 
> **If you are bothered by blood or bloodplay, GIVE THIS ONE A HARD PASS.**

Peggy rolled onto her side, staring across the darkened room.  She couldn’t sleep, despite being exhausted.  She was angry and heartsick and disgusted.

It wasn’t like she had expected her biological father to be a good man.  Though her mother had been vague, Peggy knew enough to know that he was a vicious, dangerous creature.  Nothing like her real father, Harrison Carter.  He would forever be the man she thought of when she pictured her father.  Kind, loving, devoted.  

Alexander Pierce was a creature whose interest in her extended only as far as his own ambition.  Family or not, Peggy was alone in this world.  Alone in _what_ she was, and alone in _who_ she was.

Mostly alone.

She reached out with her senses.  Steve was awake, as usual.  Roaming the sprawling house, keeping watch.  Brooding.  She and Steve weren’t the same, but they were both lost in similar ways.  She was a vampire, who wasn’t a vampire.  She had been born and grew, as little girls do.  To this day, she could walk in the sunlight and read the hearts and minds of other vampires, call to them, control them.  Meanwhile, Steve was a vampire, created by science, who had never truly died.  A vampire without a sire, or a hive.  

They were both adrift.  She was a queen without any subjects, and he a knight with no crown to protect.

The math seemed simple enough.

Except that she’d kicked him out of her bed, weeks ago.  There had seemed no point in continuing.  A purely sexual relationship was never going to fill that aching void in both of them.  And Peggy was too cautious to allow their entanglement to progress any further.  

But that was before her disastrous meeting with Alexander Pierce.  

Pierce made it clear enough that she would help him, or he would see that she was run to ground and destroyed, just like every queen before her.  If he could control her, his power would be absolute.  But if he couldn’t, she was too dangerous for him to allow to roam free.

The time for caution was quickly waning.

Peggy reached out, brushing her mind against Steve’s.  Not a command, or a call.  Just an awareness.  She knew he stopped, and was listening, waiting.

She rolled over onto her back and sent him a vision of herself, naked between the crisp white sheets of her bed.  Only moments later, there was a soft knock against her door.

“Yes?”

He pushed open the door and looked at her.  He didn’t play coy, didn’t hesitate.  He walked into the room and shut the door, then shrugged out of his shirt and kicked off his socks and shoes.  He crawled onto the bed, over her, looking down at her.  

He watched her for a long moment and then ducked his head, plucking at her lips with his own.  She sighed, lifting her hand, carding her fingers through his hair.  He groaned, slanting his mouth against hers, deepening the kiss.  Every drop of blood in his veins sang to her that he was hers.  She was the only lover he had ever known.  And he would gladly swear absolute fealty if she would only give him the chance.

She shifted on the mattress, kicking the sheets away.  He lowered himself against her, hissing as their bare chests made contact.  He nipped along her jaw, to her ear, biting gently on her earlobe.  “Missed you,” he said gruffly.

She turned her head and kissed him harder, biting down possessively on his bottom lip.  She wouldn’t say the words, but she missed him too.  Impatiently, she pushed at his shoulders and he took the hint, kissing his way down her body, his tongue dipping into her bellybutton.  Then he was pushing her legs apart, licking and kissing her here, where she wanted him.

She shifted on the bed, lifting her leg, giving him better access as he worked at her with lips and tongue and fingers.  Groaning, she fisted her hand in his hair, urging him where she wanted him the most.  He didn’t disappoint, drawing her sensitive nub between his lips, worrying it with his tongue as his fingers worked inside her.  She came apart with a cry, tugging at his hair, cursing his name.

She was laying there, eyes closed, fighting for breath.  She heard his laugh, dark and rich.  She felt him shove his trousers down his legs, and then he was crawling up her body.  She wrapped her legs around his waist.  He slid into her, his eyes fluttering shut as he groaned, jaw tight.  He was braced over, his palms planted on the mattress on either side of her shoulders.

She reached up and touched his jaw and his eyes opened as he met her gaze.  She tightened around him intentionally and he shivered, his hips rocking against hers.  “Are you mine, Steve?” she asked.

He nodded, breathing hard.

She moved her hand to her breast and used her middle finger to slowly circle her nipple.  His eyes were riveted on the sight of her red lacquered nails against her pale skin.  She took a deep breath and pressed harder, hissing as her nail cut into her skin.

He went absolutely still and she knew what he saw, the drops of blood welling from the shallow cut.  She watched the muscles in his throat move as he swallowed thickly.  His lips pursed together and she knew his fangs had extended involuntarily.

His eyes once again met hers.  She could see the hunger and longing.  Not for her blood, but for what it would mean, to belong to her, completely.

His gaze once again dropped to the cut, and then back to her face.  Slowly, she reached up with her free hand, touching his chest, his shoulder.  She curled her hand around the nape of his neck and pulled him to her.

With a groan, he lowered himself against her, sealing his mouth around her nipple.  His tongue worried the shallow cut and he sucked firmly, shivering as he swallowed.  She gasped, her back arching, using her heels against the backs of his thighs to urge him against her.  He drove into her, continuing to lick and suck at her flesh.  She could feel his fangs against her, though she knew he wouldn’t dare use them.

She touched the side of his head and urged him to kiss her as he continued to thrust inside her.  She could taste the barest hint of her own blood in his mouth and she shivered with delight.  She hadn’t known what to expect from this, and it thrilled her in ways she couldn’t completely comprehend.

Caught up in the moment, she ran her tongue against one of his fangs, feeling it break through her vulnerable flesh.  He groaned, sucking at her tongue, and she was lost, clenching around him, raking her nails down his back, deep enough to draw blood.  The smell was enough to bring out her own fangs, and accompanying hunger.

He continued to kiss her, gentling as the nick quickly healed.  Once she had her wits about her again, she pushed at his shoulder, flipping him over onto his back.  She sat there for a moment, looking down at him.  He was still hard inside her, still completely hers.  She started to move on him and his hands found her hips, abetting her movements.  

He groaned her name and turned his head to the side, baring his neck in the ultimate act of supplication.  It was the same thing he’d done the first time they’d met, an instinctive response to his queen.  

The first time she had refused.

She wasn’t refusing tonight.

She leaned forward, sinking her teeth deeply into the corded flesh of his neck, sucking hard.  He whimpered, slamming her hips down against his own as pleasure washed over him.  She continued to drink deeply and his fingers threaded through her hair, holding her to him.

She finally pulled away, panting, aware that his blood was smeared over her mouth and chin.  He turned his head, looking at her, wide eyed, awestruck.  Then his gaze dropped to her mouth and he leaned forward, capturing her lips, kissing her deeply.

She didn’t know how long they spent like that, touching, kissing.  Eventually, she climbed off him, curling against his side.  He held onto her tightly, his lips pressed against her temple, his unnecessary breath stirring wisps of her hair.  

She could feel his contentment, and knew it matched her own.  Like some long missing puzzle pieces had finally slotted into place.  They both belonged.  They both knew their centers.  She could feel that he belonged to her - a bond that could never be broken.

Pushing herself up on an elbow, she looked down at him.  Her bite was deep, and not healing as quickly as she would have expected.  She ran her finger gently along the perimeter and felt his breath catch.  

“Does it hurt?” she asked.

“Worth it,” he said firmly.

She looked down at him and then leaned in for another kiss, before flopping back on the bed.  She looked up at the ceiling.

“I take it the meeting with Pierce didn’t go well.”

She looked over at him.  “I suppose that depends on your perspective,” she said.  His brow furrowed and she continued, “He wants me to take my rightful place as his daughter.”

Steve waited.

“As far as I can tell, that means being his loyal sycophant.  If I do as I’m told, without question, he will gladly welcome me into the fold.  But if I don’t, he made the threat quite clear.”

Steve growled low in his throat, tightening his arm around her.  She ran her hand over his chest, soothing him.

“You’re a daywalker, a queen,” Steve said.  “You don’t need Pierce.”

She frowned.  “A queen without a kingdom.”

He turned, nuzzling against her jaw, nipping lightly at her earlobe.  “You could remedy that easily enough.  Pierce may be the most powerful hive leader on the west coast, but he’s not the only source of power.”

“You sound like you’re prepping for a war,” she said carefully.

He met her gaze and held it.  “I don’t want a war,” he said.  “But no one threatens you.”

She pulled him close, kissing him, before she ducked her head and ran her tongue over the bite on his neck.  He hissed in pain, but pushed into her touch.  She could feel him, hard again, against her thigh.


End file.
